


The Beginning and The End

by krispyscribbles



Series: Queen [5]
Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, It's nothing special but I like it, Slow To Update, nothing too graphic, there's a brief mention of john not being very cash money
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2019-12-25 06:17:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18255452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krispyscribbles/pseuds/krispyscribbles
Summary: "Tommy, dear, this will be your voice." Freddie pats the stark white piano, unabashedly smiling at the little boy in his lap. "Since God has robbed you of your voice, I will simply give you another one."He ignores the continuous ache in his back as the little boy, barely four years old, patters at the keys with a bright smile. They play together for a little while, but the pain is too much for him to ignore, so he gently shifts Thomas off of his lap. His throat tightens when the same sad green eyes regard him, shuffling off of the piano bench and towards his tawny-haired father."I'm sorry, Freddie," John whispers, allowing his boy to hide behind his legs. "We must be going now."ORThe man blessed with the voice of a god befriends a strange little boy.





	The Beginning and The End

He was meant to be a daughter.

John and Veronica Deacon already had four children - Robert, Laura, Michael as well as little Joshua. They were all perfect in their own ways, but they really wanted a little girl. Laura was already growing up so fast that John and Veronica agreed that they wanted another little girl to call their princess.

Instead, they got  _John Thomas Deacon_.

When Veronica was pregnant with him, she worried that he wasn't moving enough, but the doctors had assured her that he was alive and well, albeit a little timid. He wasn't hard to carry at all; John had made the joke that little  _Tommy Deacon_ was destined to be a shy little boy. When he was born, John knew that his little joke turned into a prophecy.

He wasn't anything particularly special; grey-green eyes, chestnut brown hair, long nose, and a firmly set mouth. Besides being slightly too long and a bit underweight, Thomas was a perfectly healthy baby boy. John and Veronica were able to go home the next day with their little boy, whose grey-green eyes tracked the shapes of the clouds only to slide closed within minutes.

He was a quiet baby. Sometimes John wondered whether his little boy was so cautious of disturbing others that he didn't call out for help, but Veronica had laughed it off.

"John, sweetheart, he's a baby." Veronica cuddled closer to him, head on his bare chest as they laid in bed together. John automatically wrapped an arm around her, pressing a loving kiss to her forehead. "He's as selfish as anyone can be."

As Tommy grew, Veronica doted over him more and more and cooed whenever he smiled, tugging at her hair with chubby fists. John found him endearing, especially when he would get a glint in his eyes that seemed so familiar to his own. Sometimes, the entire family would just watch Josh interact with Tommy; Josh was startlingly careful, never one to manhandle his little brother and always offering toys to the ever-curious Tommy.

Though he wasn't the princess they had hoped for, little Tommy Deacon (who would later inherit the nickname 'Deaky') certainly melted their hearts. 

-

Everything seemed so perfect until Thomas Deacon caught bronchiolitis at three months old. 

He'd been fine one night, then, come morning, Veronica noticed that he was especially pale and puffing out breaths. She'd thought that he had gotten a bout of illness, so she bit her lip and decided not to call John, who was off with the band.

She lifted Tommy out of his crib and laid him on the mat in the living room, said goodbye to her older children as they headed off to school and good morning to Josh, who had woken up from his nap. 

Veronica carefully picked up Tommy, placing him in her lap with sure movements. She then grabbed the bottle of formula and shook it gently, nudging the nipple between his lips. As she was feeding him, Thomas' breath rattled and he spat out the nipple, chest heaving as he tried to breathe. Veronica dropped the bottle and held him up, supporting his neck as she checked his irregular breathing. 

Poor Tommy looked so ill that it was frightening. Veronica stood with fluid motion, rushing to the phone. John was in London recording, so she shakily dialed the studio's phone as she cradled her sick son in one arm. Tommy's pupils weren't focusing on her and she felt herself slowly panic as the dial tone rang in her ears.

Then, just as hope had waned, Veronica heard a familiar smooth drawl over the phone.

"Hello, Freddie Mercury speaking."

Veronica almost burst into tears.

"Oh, thank God! Freddie, get someone here - John, Brian, anyone!" She sounded hysterical.

Freddie's voice lost that velvety quality as he responded. "Ronnie, dear, what's wrong?"

Veronica's breath shuddered alongside her son's. "Tommy's sick."

The phone was cradled into the juncture of her shoulder as she whispered those two words; no mother wanted to experience a sick child, especially at such a fragile stage in life. She cupped her hand over her mouth as she took in a deep breath, looking down at Tommy. He was a few shades off of ghostly and his lips were slightly parted, trying to compensate for the lack of oxygen. 

"Oh God - John and I will be there right away, Ronnie. Stay strong."

Veronica hung up and sat on the couch, utterly hopeless as her son's chest expanded and deflated erratically. 

-

"God, why us?" Veronica whispered, head on John's shoulder as they watched Tommy and Freddie together in Freddie's living room, both sitting on a stool that was slightly too small for the both of them.

As Tommy grew stronger and Freddie grew sicker, John and Veronica had taken to taking Tommy to Garden Lodge to play together while the two of them went out together. That night, the two of them had come back to Garden Lodge particularly early and were allowed in by Jim Hutton, who greeted them warmly. 

"Tommy and Freddie have been in the garden all day, but they've just started to play." Jim clapped John on the shoulder and kissed Veronica's cheek gently. "Be careful, eh? Your boy has taken a liking to Goliath and Oscar."

Veronica held John's hand as they watched a four-year-old Tommy Deacon plunk random notes into the piano, eyes lit with fascination. Freddie played alongside him, worn hands covering Tommy's small, soft ones, and they played  _Don't Stop Me Now_ together. Freddie sang for the both of them, head downwards to practically hum the lyrics into Tommy's eager ears. John gnawed at his cheek and swallowed his tears when he saw Tommy mouth along to his words, unable to sing for himself. 

The trauma of a slightly-too-large nasogastric tube being shoved down his throat had caused Tommy's inability to speak, but Freddie was there for him. He'd been there for Tommy since that awful day, always singing songs that would soothe the crying infant in a way that made John jealous.

Freddie became  _Uncle Fred_ for little Tommy, and since then they'd had a special bond that even John didn't have with his son. 

" **La, da da da daah**  
**Da da da haa**  
**Ha da da ha ha haaa**  
**Ha da daa ha da da aaa**  
**Ooh ooh ooh."**

Maybe it was the sickness that ravaged their bodies and stole a part of them that would never be given back. 

"Well done, Lovie! Ah, your parents are here!" Freddie waved at Veronica and John, who grinned at Tommy sprinting towards them.

John scooped up the little boy and grunted, pressing a firm kiss to his forehead. Veronica also pressed a tender kiss to Tommy's forehead, sweeping back the shaggy brown hair that reminded her of John's hair in the seventies. Freddie stood up and sighed, placing a hand onto Veronica and John's shoulders.

"Thank you for letting me spend time with him," Freddie said clearly; he'd always been one for transparency, but John and Veronica would be able to read between the lines. He was sick, and he only had so much time with the little boy who had stolen his heart. 

John swallowed thickly and cradled the boy in his arms, hoping that he'd forever have the chance to hide him from the harshness of reality. 

"Thank you for taking care of him, Fred. We'll be around more often."

The trio walked to the door and Freddie waved as the Deacons walked to their car, an exhausted Tommy silently protesting at the seatbelt digging into his skin. 

Neither of them said it, but they wondered how long they'd have until their son would no longer have his songbird to hum him funny little tunes. 

-

 


End file.
